A/N: Weee~! Chapter 2! This is what happens when I get bored at school. Anywho, this is dedicated to nightwing and QueenStrata (the only two people who reviewed chapter one thus far). Yay! ^_^

WARNING: This is *slash* or at least, it should be, eventually. Should I get around to writing it that far. Me and my procrastination...

Disclaimer: I am JK Rowling! Pffft. I wish. *is making no money off this fanfic which is a shame because she's relatively broke*





Chapter 2

The Thing I Hate



Looking back on it now, Draco realized that the day his world started to fall apart, it was sunny. Sunny! It broke all the rules of cliches - days like this should have had dark, ominous clouds, pouring rain and vicious thunders. Maybe then Malfoy would have paid a bit more attention. But, it should have not - most definitely - been sunny.

"M-master Draco..?" the timid voice of a house elf - who's name Draco did not know - broke through the young man's studies.

"What do you want?!" He snapped from his lavish, four-poster bed. "Can't you see I'm busy?" It was true. Even he had difficulties completing the massive amounts of summer work his Potions Master assigned (but he was not about to let anyone know that).

"M-master L-lucius calls f-for you in t-the d-drawing room... sir..." the elf added as an afterthought.

The young xanthochroid sighed, "Very well." He eyed the little creature warily as he stepped from his room. The elves in the manor were frightened of their masters yes, but this little servant seem especially... anxious.

Had he given that thought more than a moment before dismissing it, Draco Malfoy would not have gone to the drawing room.

The air in the room was cold; slightly odd because of the summer heat, but again Draco dismissed the thought. He also paid little attention to the fact that the candles in the room were dimmed - and that the portraits on the walls were eyeing him nervously. He practically ignored the blatant warning signs, until he saw Voldemort - - and froze.

The greatest (or worst) Dark wizard was standing at the other end of the room; a malicious glint in his demon-red eyes. Lucius Malfoy was not three paces behind his master. As the first nodded, the latter stepped forward towards his heir.

"Isss he ready Lucciusss?" Voldemort hissed.

"He is my Lord."

/No, no... not yet! I'm not ready! I can't do this! I don't want this!/ he begged silently to his father. Draco tried his best to regain his composure, "F-forgive me Lord. But I thought you did not accept teenagers into the Death Eaters," mentally kicking himself for stuttering.

"Aaah, young Draco. You are very perceptive. It issss true. But you are an exception. Ssso young and powerful."

The xanthochroid gulped, "I-I fear that I may not be as useful as you credit me for," he caught a glare from Lucius, but continued anyway. "And it would become more difficult for me to keep an eye on Potter if I bear your mark. Dumbledore..."

"ENOUGH!Young Malfoy, you give me the impression that you do not wissh to bear my mark of power."

"N-no... that's not..."

"SILENCE then boy. You sshall be punished for this insubordination. /Crucio/."

Draco fell to the ground, trying to bite back the scream lodged in his throat. Every limb in his body was on fire. He couldn't breathe. Wave after wave, mountain after mountain of pain crashed over him. And he found himself unable to hold it back when his father added his own /Crucio/.

The sixteen year old couldn't remember when he'd been released from the spell; but the next thing he remembered was hearing someone walk towards him. He tried to scamper backwards, out of the man's bony grip. Anything to get away. He wouldn't go down without a fight. He would not become just another mindless servant. /I won't become like my father./

"My my Lucciusss, this sson of yoursss isss rather uncooperative."

"I assure you my Lord, if you are unsatisfied you may dispose of him."

That was it. He was unsatisfactory to Voldemort and his father was giving the wizard permission to kill him. No, Lucius was giving him permission. Draco Malfoy had no father, not anymore.

"But he will be of usse to me. Come now little Malfoy."

"No!" He screamed, or he would have screamed had his mouth not gone dry during the curse. It cracked and sounded more like a whimper than a word. He backed away again, in a fleeting attempt to get away again.

"Very well then, I fear I have no choice. /Imperio/."

And Draco's mind went black. He heard a voice, "Come here child."

/No!/ he screamed to himself. But he found his body moving of its own accord. /NO!/ He tried again. It was hopeless.

"Give me your arm."

He silently obeyed.

"Good."

In one last futile attempt to break the curse he tried to think of something. Something strong. Something that could help him. And as Voldemort pressed his wand to Draco's forearm and uttered, "/Morsmordre/" an image flashed through his mind.

- Potter -

And Draco screamed.